


Connection

by GreyHaven



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Background ThreeGulls, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Smut, mild emotional angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 06:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17054612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyHaven/pseuds/GreyHaven
Summary: A year after the Troubles ended, the newly rebuilt Gull reopens with a party and after a few drinks, Claire can't take her eyes off Dwight.  Audrey nudges them together - but will it be a drunken kiss or will they get together?(Rhetorical question, guys, it's fic, of course they're getting together!  Enjoy!)





	Connection

**Author's Note:**

> With huge huge thanks to [Serendipity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityxxi) who inspired me to write this fic and motivated me to finish it <3

“Oh and Louis Pufahl, he got back together with Marcia now she's certain she won't be attacked by his machines again.”  Claire finally finishes updating Audrey on all the latest news (it's definitely news, not gossip) and sits back with her glass of wine.   

It’s taken a while, Audrey’s been busy with work and they haven’t had a chance to catch up for a couple of weeks.  Not that Claire’s been any less busy in that regard but she still has all the latest news because people talk to her.  Sometimes she wishes they wouldn’t.

Tonight is reopening night at the Gull, the date carefully chosen by Duke to coincide with the first anniversary of the Troubles ending.  It's taken him most of that year to rebuild the place, grabbing a few hours here and there in between helping with rebuilding the town, but it's perfect.  He's updated the decor to modern, soft greys and warm, natural wood. It's beautiful and she tells him so. 

He nods his thanks and tops up her wine glass.  Audrey mouths the words  _ thank you _ to her and Claire lifts her glass in return. 

The timing is right.  It would be too easy for the town to wallow today, to think about what they've lost instead of celebrating the fact that it's over, that they're still here.  A party is exactly the right thing to be doing.

Even if it is bittersweet.  Everyone in this bar has lost someone.  Family. Friends. Colleagues. Those lost lives, they deserve to be remembered and they will be.  There are plans for an official memorial but in the meantime, Duke has a board where people can put photos and notes.  It's filling up fast.

Across the room, Dwight is talking to Nathan and McHugh.  At least Claire  _ thinks  _ they’re talking.  They’re sitting near each other and drinking anyway, so there might be some conversation happening.

Duke is flitting around, serving drinks.  He shares an affectionate hug with Jennifer, something Claire is very glad to see, especially now that Jennifer has gotten together with Jordan who - even after everything - is still not Duke’s biggest fan.  Now that she thinks about it, Claire isn’t sure how Jennifer and Jordan got together but there’s no denying they’re good for each other. Jennifer gives Jordan a space where she can be  _ soft  _ and, in turn, Jordan gives Jennifer confidence.  They’re rubbing off on each other well.

Bill and Meg exchange a few words with Duke but then he’s off, dashing between the tables with copious amounts of alcohol, only pausing to drag Julia over to talk to Gloria and Vickie.  Julia seems a little...awkward. Like she doesn’t know whether she  _ fits. _

In the corner, Vince and Dave are bickering and  _ why  _ they can’t put whatever it is to one side just for  _ one night,  _ Claire doesn’t know.

Nathan seems to be steadily getting drunk - or at least Claire assumes he is.  He’s becoming louder and more animated, anyway, which probably means the alcohol has gone to his head.  McHugh has wandered off, found a small table in the corner away from everyone, and is talking to Jess which leaves Dwight rolling his eyes every few minutes when Nathan shouts “flying raisin” and tries to throw one into his mouth.  He misses more than he catches.

But it draws Claire’s attention to Dwight.  Every time she looks up, he’s staring at her.  So much so that she does a double take and Audrey laughs.

“He’s looking at you as often as you’re looking at him.”

Despite being momentarily flustered, Claire manages a smile in Dwight’s direction.  Of course, he isn’t looking but she steels herself to be brave. Stupid word, brave, after everything this town has been through, all the horrors they’ve all faced, but somehow holding his gaze when he looks back feels like it takes more courage than anything she’s had to do before.  She kicks herself for acting like a teenager. 

Kicks herself again when her heart thuds in her chest because he catches her gaze and smiles back.  Teenager. Definitely a teenager.

Audrey pokes her in the ribs.  “You planning to do anything about it?”

“What?” Claire feigns innocence but she’s pretty sure Audrey can see right through it.

Which is confirmed when Audrey rolls her eyes, smirking slightly.   _ “Dwight.”   _

She says his name loudly enough that he looks over again, his eyebrows raised in an unspoken question and Audrey gives him a wave of her hand and a shake of her head to indicate ‘nothing’.  He turns back to his beer and continues rolling his eyes at Nathan’s drunken antics.

Claire sighs.  “I don’t know. Should I?”

“Well that’s your choice, isn’t it?” Audrey smirks over her wine glass.  “At least that’s what you always tell me. I don’t think I’m exactly the right person to be making your decisions but I will say that Dwight’s a good guy and you could do a lot worse.”

Which tells Claire precisely nothing she doesn’t already know.  She and Dwight have been in each others peripheral circle for long enough.  She knows he’s one of the good guys. They’ve had conversations before, she feels comfortable with him and he’s tall and strong and  _ that face… _

What does she have to lose?

The answer is  _ absolutely nothing.   _ Her ego can take a knock back if it happens.

Even so, she quickly drains the last of her wine and contemplates asking Duke for a whiskey.  She decides not to. It would be  _ too obviously  _ a shot of courage.  One which she tells herself she doesn’t need.

She stands up and Audrey is right behind her - in fact, reaches the table before Claire does and tactfully steers Nathan off towards the bar.  He’s wobbling and Claire suspects that he probably doesn’t  _ need  _ any more alcohol but she’s sure Audrey has it under control and at least she has Duke to help get Nathan upstairs.

“Get you a drink?” Dwight offers.  He’s smiling and open and relaxed and he seems vaguely relieved which probably has a lot to do with being free from Nathan throwing dried fruit around the place.

“Yes,” Claire says, smiling back.  “Another white wine please.” She isn’t entirely sure she hasn’t had enough to drink but one more couldn’t hurt, it’s not as if she’s  _ drunk, _ exactly.

Dwight nods his reply and catches Duke’s attention to get them another round.  He’s there almost immediately, dashing off again before Claire can even thank him.

When Claire raises her glass in an unspoken toast, Dwight smiles and clinks his against hers.

“Nice to see you without the vest,” she says without thinking.

He raises one eyebrow and Claire groans inwardly because  _ wow,  _ that - that sounded way more suggestive than she’d intended it to.  Heat floods to her cheeks and she drops her eyes to stare into her wine glass.

“I mean...not...Oh god.  I meant that I’m glad the Troubles are over and you don’t have to wear it any more.”

Ohgodohgodohgod.  

She’s dying inside but he just smiles and gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, surprisingly gentle for such a big man.  “Knew what you meant.”

Oh good.  At least one of them knew what she meant because now - now he’s  _ so close  _ that Claire can barely think.  She mentally shakes herself off.

“It must have been really hard for you to deal with.”

That raised eyebrow again.  “Take an evening off, Claire,” he says, his voice full of laughter and he has a  _ point. _  A very good point.  She’s come over here to talk to him, not to analyse him, she isn’t in her office now.

“Sorry.”

“Not so easy, is it?”  Now he sounds understanding and there’s a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.  He can’t take an evening off either. He’s here and he’s as drunk as everyone else is, but he’s facing the door and has barely taken his eyes off it all evening, only when he’s been looking at her and even then, the door was in his peripheral vision.

No, he can’t unwind either and that’s hardly surprising.  None of them can really. Looking around the bar, Claire can see that.  The dark circles under Audrey’s eyes. Duke’s nervous energy. Nathan can’t keep his eyes off them and it’s less to do with admiring them and more to do with making sure they’re safe.  Jordan is glued to Jennifer, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist and it could be possessive but it isn’t. Bill and Meg have tucked Julia in between them, McHugh is telling Jess a long and involved story about Afghanistan that’s making her laugh but his eyes flick to the door every few seconds.  Gloria is downing whiskeys faster than Duke can deliver them and Vickie can’t keep her hands still. Only the Teagues seem to be their usual selves; their bickering has simmered down into whispering but Vince doesn't look any less animated for that.

And Claire?  Claire is apparently sticking her foot in her mouth and trying to psychoanalyse a man she’s romantically interested in.  She’s a psychiatrist. She should be better at compartmentalisation than this. But she isn’t. Never has been. The human mind has always fascinated her, it isn’t so much  _ a job _ as it’s just who she is and switching off that part of herself isn’t easy.

“How’s Lizzie?”  She says abruptly.  

“She’s fine.  Happy. Doesn’t remember anything being wrong.”

“Good, that’s good.”  And it is. Really really good.  “And you? How are you?”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead and Claire wonders when anyone last asked him how he is.

“Uh.  I’m good.”

“Really?”  Claire knows, she  _ knows _ she sounds arch but Dwight softens.

“Yeah, really.  Better than most.  All the army stuff, y’know.  Prepares you for...stuff like we’ve seen.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” She trails off.  It takes a certain mindset to be successful in the Rangers.  Someone who’s tough, who can kick ass whenever they need to. Someone who’s prepared to take a life to save one.  But there’s no toxic masculinity in these units. They have to be open with each other, to lean on each other, or the whole team falls apart.  “Long as you know you don’t always have to be ok.”

He’s smiling again now.  “I know. Thanks, I appreciate the reminder but I’m good.”

Claire nods and takes another sip of her wine.

“How are you, Claire?”  The way he says her name, it’s almost like a caress.  Soft and gentle and he’s really asking. He isn’t being polite, he genuinely wants to know.

“Better than most,” she parrots his own words back at him and that’s  _ stupid, _ it’s defensive and chippy and she doesn’t want to be like that with him.  She takes a breath. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, brushing off her apology.

“I’m ok.  Good days and bad days.  I’ve been a step removed from most of it, a lot of what I know is from patients telling me about it rather than things I’ve seen or had to do.  That helps.” Sometimes it makes it harder. Sometimes hearing about things is worse than seeing them with your own eyes.

Now he’s nodding like he understands.  Maybe he does. 

The conversation flows more naturally after that.  His eyes sparkle when he speaks about Lizzie and it’s a delight to behold.  When Claire asks about the renovation work, he’s passionate, speaking with his hands as he describes exactly how some of the more complex projects have been accomplished and he quietly reveals that he’s doing some work on his place, making it into a home for him and Lizzie.

All too soon, Duke is calling time at the bar.  Actually it’s past time; Claire’s pretty sure he’s only licensed til midnight and it’s well after one in the morning but it’s not like anyone’s going to call him on his extended hours given that most of Haven PD is here.  Stan’s been on the karaoke machine for the past forty five minutes which is reason enough for Duke to want to call it a night. Not that he can’t sing, he  _ can, _ he just has terrible taste in music.

Dwight clears his throat.  “You got a ride home?”

Claire shakes her head.  “Walking.”

He frowns a little which is...odd.  Haven is  _ safe _ now.  A typical small town with lower than average crime statistics.  In fact, there is no crime. It’s only been a year, no one who’s still living here wants to see anything bad happen to their town.

“I could, uh...I could walk you home.  If that would be ok.”

Claire just about manages to restrain a snort of disbelief.   _ If that would be ok.  _  That would be better than ok, she’s enjoyed spending time with him and another half an hour to walk her back to her small apartment in town would be a half hour well spent.  Besides which, she was drunk two glasses of wine ago, now she’s...very drunk and having someone to pull her out of the hedge she’s bound to fall into would be very helpful.

“Yeah, that would be nice.  Thank you.” She smiles and he smiles back at her, warm and relaxed.  

He’s clear eyed and apparently much more sober than she is because he doesn’t wobble when he stands up and holds out her jacket for her to slip into.  He pulls on his own jacket and gives a nod to McHugh before he opens the door, holding it so Claire can leave first. The feminist in her wants to be offended by it, wants to protest that she can open a door by herself but she doesn’t.  He’s not trying to be macho. He’s just being  _ nice. _  He’d do the same for any of the guys as well, she’s certain of that.

As they leave, they pass Audrey and Duke who are trying to get Nathan up the stairs to Audrey’s apartment.  It doesn’t appear to be going well. Nathan seems to be very determined to get back to the bar, where the alcohol is, and Audrey looks ready to slap him.  Duke, on the other hand, is trying some soft persuasion and Claire only catches one word -  _ pancakes _ \- before Nathan is obediently following him up the steps.  Audrey shoots her a relieved look and trails after them. Claire is pretty certain Audrey is going to be ranting about that on their next girls night, a rant which will end with them all laughing because they know how much she loves her boys, she wouldn’t be without either of them and she can complain all she wants but she wouldn’t change a thing about them.

Dwight stops at his truck to pick up a flashlight.  Claire isn’t sure if he wants the light or if he’s still jumpy enough to want a blunt instrument to use as a weapon (against what, she isn’t sure, given the fact she’s fairly sure the gun on his belt is loaded and ready to go) but she thinks it might be the latter.

They walk side by side.  Dwight slows his pace so that he isn’t racing ahead of her and  _ god  _ he’s tall, almost a foot taller than she is.  If he was walking at his normal speed, she wouldn’t stand a chance of keeping up without jogging and jogging is absolutely not a thing she does.  But he isn’t. He’s slowed. For her. It’s - she shouldn’t be surprised that he’s being considerate, it’s just who he is, but it’s sweet just the same.

He’s walking close enough to her that the backs of their hands brush every now and again and each one sends a spark through Claire.  She wonders if he feels it too.

Maybe he does.  He’s  _ quiet _ anyway, in that Mainer way that all the guys here seem to have.  Actually, it would be a fascinating study. The men of Maine and their ability to communicate in eyebrow movements.  The trouble is, she can’t see his eyebrows to know what he is (or isn’t) saying.

So she walks, just as quietly, and when he trips over his own feet, she can’t help the laugh that falls from her lips.

“Enjoy your trip?”

_ God _ that’s childish.  Stupid. Stupid thing to say to someone she’s interested in but she can’t quite help herself.  Humour at inappropriate moments, that’s her superpower.

But he’s laughing too and then his arms are around her, warm and strong so maybe it wasn’t so stupid.  He’s swaying slightly. Not much, just enough that she notices.

“Might be I’m more drunk than I thought.”

“Might be I am too,” she fires back, grinning against his chest.  It’s the truth. She felt ok in the bar but the cool night air hit her and now her legs feel wobbly, her head is spinning and either she really is drunk or Dwight is having an effect on her.  She’s not admitting to that though.

His jacket is open, his henley soft against her face and Claire feels a pang of regret when he gently rubs her upper arms before he pulls away.

“We’d best get you home then.” With that, he takes her hand and starts walking again.

Her hand feels tiny surrounded by his but he’s gentle, everything about him is  _ gentle _ and it’s completely at odds with how he looks.  Because he looks like he could snap her in half with his little finger.  She's seen him in action, she knows what he's capable of, and she feels safe anyway.

Maybe that's why she feels safe.

Whatever it is, he's giving her that vibe.  That  _ I won't let anything happen to you  _ vibe and while Claire is perfectly able to take care of herself, she doesn't mind admitting that it's nice not to have to.

It feels like only a few minutes pass before they’re standing outside Claire’s apartment block, under the flickering streetlight that she really hopes will be fixed soon.  

Dwight is staring at it thoughtfully.  “I’ll add that to the list.”

She knows which list he means.  It’s a short list now, after a year of work, but there are still a few things around town which aren’t quite back to how they were before...everything.

“Thanks.  My apartment’s round the back so it doesn’t really bother me when I’m home but it…”  She trails off for a moment. “It feels eerie when it flickers like that.”

He nods.  “Last thing we need is anything creepy around here.”

“Yeah.”  Claire really has no idea what to say next, it’s been way too long since she tried her hand at this dating thing and she’s pretty sure she’s forgotten how to flirt.  If she ever knew. 

What she  _ does  _ know is that she isn’t quite ready for the evening to end yet and she’s standing there with her arms swinging by her sides when a sudden brainwave hits her.  “I should get upstairs. Would you - would you like to come up for a coffee?”

There go his eyebrows again, climbing up towards his hairline for a moment before he softens.  “I’d really like that but I need to get back. I left Frankie Benton in charge and I dread to think what the girls and Lizzie have got up to.”

Claire nods and tries not to look disappointed.  “Yeah, no, of course, it’s getting late.”

And then his hands are on her shoulders, resting lightly as he smiles down at her.  Such a soft smile. Full of warmth and maybe just a hint of  _ fun.   _ It’s not the first time she’s seen him smile but it is the first time she’s seen him smile so  _ genuinely _ .

Impulsively, she stands on her tiptoes and curls her hand around the back of his neck, encouraging him to lean down so she can kiss him.

He doesn’t respond at first and as the seconds tick by Claire is filled with a sense of dread, convinced she’s made a horrible, embarrassing mistake.  Maybe he was just being kind, walking her home. Maybe he doesn’t see her like that at all. She’s about to pull away, offer apologies and flee into her apartment to drown her embarrassment in some more alcohol, when he kisses her back.

Soft lips contrast with rough stubble, lightly brushing over hers at first and then -  _ wow -  _ then he deepens the kiss, parting her lips with his and he tastes of beer and whiskey.  And Claire...Claire could lose herself in this kiss.

She doesn’t notice his hands move from her shoulders.  Not until one is resting on her waist, strong and warm, and the other is tilting her chin up.  His hands are impossibly gentle but his kiss… 

His kiss is anything but.

It’s rough and passionate and  _ hungry.   _ It’s exactly how she likes to be kissed and she presses closer into him.  He plants his feet and stands firm, rock solid until she lightly scratches the back of his neck and then - then he practically melts against her with a soft sound that makes Claire pull away.

If they aren’t careful, this is going to go too far, too soon and she doesn’t...she doesn’t  _ want  _ that.  Not with Dwight.  Well, no, she  _ does,  _ she just…

She’s drunk and she doesn’t want this to be a one off drunken mistake.

“That was…” she says, just as Dwight speaks as well.

“We should…”

They both laugh and Dwight gestures that she should go first.

“I should get in,” she says, gesturing in the vague direction of her apartment.  “But thank you, for walking me home and for…”

He nods.  “Anytime. See you, Claire.”  The way he says her name is almost a caress.  One Claire can almost feel.

“See you, Dwight.”

He nods again and Claire lets out an embarrassed half-laugh as she turns towards her apartment.

When she glances back, he’s still standing there, under the streetlight, his hands in his pockets, watching to make sure she gets safely inside before he leaves.

Too late, she remembers what Audrey said about him being a gentleman and that she would need to make all the first moves.  She practically smacks herself in the forehead. She  _ knew  _ she should have suggested going out somewhere - something casual, not something that would feel too much like a date.  A picnic maybe.

She gives him a wave from the door before she slips inside.  He waves back and walks away and the moment is gone.

****

A Saturday without client appointments is something of a novelty to Claire - one which she fully intends to make the most of.  Starting with a leisurely coffee at Black House.

No sooner has she sat down with a vanilla latte and a sickeningly sweet looking cupcake that’s piled high with pink buttercream frosting, than Dwight shambles in and her heart gives a little leap in her chest.  She hasn’t seen him since the party at the Gull and the kiss.  _ That kiss. _  And that was nearly two weeks ago.  She’s thought about calling him, she has his number after all, but she didn’t want to seem too keen and then it seemed too late for a casual ‘so the other night was fun…’ sort of call.  So she hasn’t. 

And now he’s here and she has no idea what she’s supposed to do.

Is she supposed to smile and wave?  Or pretend she hasn’t seen him and hope he comes over?  Why is this stuff so  _ hard?   _

She’s still formulating a plan in her mind, one that doesn’t make her look like a complete idiot or an over enthusiastic teenage girl, when he spots her first, almost as though he’s been looking for her.  He flashes her a smile as he makes his way across the crowded coffee shop and Claire breathes a small sigh of relief.

“Hey Claire.”

“Hi Dwight, didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Had some free time, thought it’d make a nice change to sit down with a coffee.”

Claire’s pretty sure there’s something he isn’t saying, despite the almost goofy smile that curves his lips upwards and makes him look like an over excited puppy.  Dwight gets free time about as often as she does so if he’s at a loose end, there’s a reason. 

She’s also pretty sure that if she pushes, he’s so full of nervous energy that he’ll clam up or deflect so, for once in her life, she puts her desire to ask to one side and glances around the coffee shop instead.

“Want to join me?  Looks like I got the last table.”

“Yeah.” His face lights up.  “I’ll just…” He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the counter, gives an awkward laugh, and goes to order.

He’s back a few minutes later, with a black coffee and a sticky danish pastry, and folds his long legs under the table so he can sit down.

Claire tries not to look.  Really, she tries, but she can practically  _ see  _ his muscles rippling, even through his jeans and her imagination fills in the rest.  God, it’s clearly been far too long if she’s lusting after a fully dressed man at half past ten in the morning, in the middle of a busy coffee shop. 

Or maybe it’s just  _ Dwight.   _ Dwight and the effect he has on her.

He clears his throat and Claire comes down to earth with a bump and a little shake of her head, as though the simple motion can clear those thoughts.  She just about manages to suppress a giggle as she reminds herself that her mind is not an Etch-a-Sketch and shaking her head isn’t likely to be even remotely useful.  

“So...how you been?”

“Oh, fine, fine.  Busy. You know how it goes.”  He does, she’s sure of that, but it still feels trite to say.  What else would she say, though?  _ Sorry I haven’t been in touch but I’m useless at this stuff because I spent all my formative years studying so I didn’t call you even though I have your number and really really wanted to call you.   _ No.  No, she’s definitely not saying that.

“Yeah,” he grins ruefully, somewhat apologetically, almost, and maybe he’s just as bad at this stuff as she is.

“You?  How have you been?”

“Good.”  His answer is quick.  Too quick to be believable and Claire almost lets it slide.  Almost.

“Really?”  She raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of her coffee.

He almost deflates in front of her eyes, hunching over with both hands wrapped around his coffee mug.  “No, not really,” he mutters.

“So what’s wrong?”  Claire keeps her tone gentle, coaxing.

“Nothing.”  He sits up straight again and plasters a smile onto his face.  It’s a nice smile but it’s not  _ that smile.   _ Not the one that reaches his eyes and warms Claire’s heart.

“Convincing.  Want to try that again?”

“Claire, I’m fine.  You aren’t at work now and I don’t want to use you.”

“Hey, as long as you don’t ask me for a prescription when I’m off duty, we’re all good.  I’m asking as a...friend. Not a shrink.”

“You sure?”

“Perfectly.  What’s going on?”

He hesitates a beat longer, his green eyes locked onto hers, boring into her.  And it’s like he  _ sees  _ her, just for a second before he nods and leans forwards over his coffee cup in a posture that might have been defensive but wasn’t.

She’s pleased to see that; she doesn’t  _ want  _ to make him defensive, doesn’t want to put him on the back foot - not just because she’d be a lousy shrink if she did but because she wants to get to know this big, hulking, quiet man who hides so much of himself away from the world.  Sometimes she thinks the vest might have been protection against more than stray bullets. It had been, after all, a barrier between Dwight and the world that had hurt him time and time again.

“It’s Lizzie.”

“Oh god, what’s happened?” Claire’s heart thuds against her ribcage and her mouth is suddenly dry and…

“Nothing, nothing.”  He’s quick to reassure her, his hands splayed in the typical ‘calm down’ gesture that would normally piss her off but is  _ actually calming  _ coming from him.

Claire breathes again and takes a sip of coffee.

“Sorry.  Everything’s fine, it’s just…”

“Go on…”

“She’s on a sleepover.”

“Ok…?”

“With the Benton sisters.”

“They’re not…?”

“No, no nothing like that.”

“You miss her, don’t you?”

Dwight gives her a wry smile and a half laugh.  “Not so much I miss her as...I worry. When she’s out of sight.  It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. Everything’s fine now. Just can’t shake the memory of her being gone.  So I keep busy when she’s busy and today… today’s the first day I haven’t been able to do that.”

“When did you last have a day off?”

“...”

His pause says it all.  He hasn’t  _ had  _ a day off, a chance to process everything that’s happened to them all.  If it wasn’t fighting the Troubles, it was rebuilding afterwards and Claire’s pretty sure the answer to that question is  _ years.   _

In that moment, in that pause with so many things unsaid, Claire makes a decision.  Telling him not to worry about Lizzie would be useless and she doesn’t want to  _ psychiatrist  _ him.  He can make an appointment for that.  Preferably with someone else because right now she’s much more concerned with getting to know Dwight-as-a-man rather than Dwight-as-a-patient.  She’ll suggest it sometime. Give him some recommendations. 

Not now though.  Now she has other ideas.

A small part of her sniggers at all the possible innuendoes behind that thought but she shuts it up and ploughs on.

“Ok, so we - yes,  _ we -  _ are going to have a day off.  Together.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead and maybe he has a point, it was a rather presumptuous suggestion.  In fact, it hadn’t been a suggestion so much as she’d announced it as a fait accompli. 

She holds his gaze and after a moment, he nods.

“I’d like that.  You sure I’m not keeping you from anything?”

“Perfectly.  All I have planned for the day is coffee and cake, then working on the car which can either wait or you can help me.”

“Car?”  His eyebrows shoot up again.

“Yes, car.  Don’t look so surprised.”

“What car?  I thought you had that nearly new Civic.”

“Oh, that’s just my sensible car.  I have a Fiat for when I’m feeling less sensible.”

“A Fiat?”

“A 124 Spider.  1977, red, convertible.  Great car. Doesn’t like the Haven winters much though so I need to get her tucked up in bed before the weather turns.”

“Good car.”  He looks impressed and Claire’s disproportionately pleased by that.

“She is.  So eat your pastry and drink your coffee and then you can help me.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind me hanging around, I don’t want to be-”

“Perfectly.”  Claire interrupts him before he can finish that sentence.  “I wouldn’t have offered if I minded.”

Dwight gives her a wry grin and a flick of his eyebrows and starts eating his pastry.

They eat in silence, only broken when Dwight points out a smear of frosting that Claire has somehow managed to get on her nose.  She quickly wipes it off with her sleeve. It’s an old denim shirt that she’s going to get engine oil on later so a bit of frosting isn’t going to make the blindest bit of difference.

Ten minutes later, Claire drains the last of her coffee and stands up.  “Good to go?”

Dwight nods and stretches and she can’t help but stare at his arms, the muscles pulling the fabric as tight as it can go.  This time, she can't tear her eyes away and he catches her looking. She's pretty sure she's blushing bright red but he just smiles back at her, drops his arms and stands up.  

Ten minutes after  _ that,  _ they're standing outside Louis Pufahl's barn where her car is stored when she's not using it.

Claire opens the door, revealing the car that's been her pride and joy since her father bought it for her as a graduation present.

“She's a beauty,” Dwight says, grinning. “Got a name?”

“Bella. Not very original but it suits her.”

“That it does.”

He runs his hand across the paintwork and Claire half wants to tell him to be careful, that’s her baby he’s touching but he’s touching her so  _ gently,  _ like the precious thing that she is.  Heat rises to Claire’s cheeks as her mind wanders in  _ that direction  _ again, this time thinking about how Dwight might touch  _ her,  _ whether he’d be gentle with her or whether he’d be rough and passionate or whether he’d be some sort of intoxicating combination of both.

She kicks herself.  Not literally, that would be weird and noticeable, although she’s holding it in reserve in case she needs it.  She has a car to sort out and a friend to support and she can’t keep getting distracted by -  _ oh god,  _ now he’s bending over the hood and…

Claire clears her throat.  “Mind passing me that bucket?”

He does and of course that involves him bending over further and Claire swears to herself that that  _ wasn’t intentional,  _ she didn’t intentionally ask him to bend over for her and…

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that?” She blinks, attempting to look innocent, having completely missed what he just said.

“I asked if you were draining the oil.”

“Oh.  Yeah, changing the oil and filters, topping up the antifreeze.  Everything else is done.”

“Shall we, then?” he says, brandishing the bucket.

“We shall.”  There’s a hint of laughter in her voice as she answers and she feels like she’s back on level ground again.

She ties her hair back, takes the bucket from Dwight, and they set to work.

An hour later, her white tank top is covered in engine oil stains and they’ve finished.

“You’ve got a little…” Dwight says, gesturing towards her face.

“Oh.”  Claire wipes her arm across what she’s sure is a smudge of oil on her nose.

“May I?”

She nods, her heart galloping as he reaches out with a clean rag and gently wipes it off for her.  It gallops faster when he doesn’t move away afterwards. He’s so close. Close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from him.  Close enough that he must be able to hear her heart thudding and the way her breathing has turned ragged. Close enough that she could reach up and pull him down for a kiss, just like she did after the party at the Gull. 

No sooner has the thought crossed her mind than he’s leaning down of his own accord.  He stops, his lips just inches from hers, his eyebrows raised in a silent question and he’s giving her space, giving her time to move away or say no or -

Not that it matters because ‘no’ is the last thing on her mind as she stretches up to meet him.

He’s gentle but insistent.  His lips tug at her bottom lip, coaxing her to part them - not that she needs much coaxing in that department but sometimes a lady likes to feel like she isn’t giving it up too easily.  Fuck it. Who’s Claire kidding? She’s never been ladylike, considers the whole idea bullshit, in fact, so she wraps her hand around the nape of his neck and pulls him closer to kiss him more deeply.

Coffee. He tastes of coffee. Strong with a hint of earthiness and if that isn't an appropriate metaphor for who he is, Claire isn't sure what would be. Not that she gets much time to process that thought because his hands slide down, slipping over her ass to grasp the backs of her thighs and before she knows what's happening, he's picking her up.

She wraps her legs around his waist, resting her hands on his shoulders as she leans down to kiss him - not as gently as he'd kissed her, she doesn't - she doesn't really have the  _ patience  _ for that right now. She's... demanding. Passionate. Hungry, almost, as she darts her tongue into his mouth, delighting when he makes a soft sound and his fingers tighten on her thighs. 

One more slide of her lips against his and she breaks away to murmur in his ear. “Want to take this somewhere more... comfortable?”

He groans. She swears he groans and this is so not what Claire had intended to happen but they're both into it so she's going to roll with it.

She nips his earlobe and his fingers tighten again and  _ god,  _ if he's that responsive already, this - this promises to be a lot of...fun. “My place?”

“Yeah. Want me to drive?” 

“Sure you can keep your hands off me long enough to get us home?” She teases lightly.

He kisses her again. Just briefly. Barely a kiss before he's gone again. “Nope. You drive.”

That's - that's actually really hot and if Claire isn't careful, they're going to end up doing it right here in Louis Pufahl's barn which… No.

“Sure you can keep your hands off me long enough for me to get us home?” She teases again.

He laughs this time and gently puts her down, keeping his hands on her waist to make sure she's steady before he lets go. “No promises on that score.”

She rolls her eyes but it's in a good natured way, and she takes a moment to compose herself (ie for her legs to stop shaking and her heart rate to slow back down) before she picks up the keys to her sensible Honda Civic, pats Bella the Fiat goodbye, and locks the barn door behind them. They'll pick up Dwight's truck later.

...Or maybe tomorrow because this...this feels like it's going somewhere kind of special and Claire wants to make the most of that and that very definitely involves spending the afternoon in bed, ordering take out to eat in bed, spending the evening in bed and not waking up until late the following morning. Dwight's smile as they get into her car looks just a little bit...goofy so hopefully he'll be on board with the whole not-leaving-the-bed plan.

*

The drive back to Claire’s apartment seems to have taken the heat out of the moment because they stare at each other for a full minute once she’s closed the door.  Dwight has his hands in his pockets and he’s staring at the floor and this is...not good.

“Coffee?” Claire asks in a desperate attempt to break the ice.

“Yeah, I’ll - Want a hand?”

“Sure, sure.”

He follows her into the tiny kitchen where it’s cramped and while there’s just about enough room to swing a cat (a small, patient one, anyway), there really isn’t enough space for Claire and one large, hulking, Viking-resembling Dwight to move around each other comfortably.  After a couple of bumped elbows and muttered apologies, Dwight tucks himself in behind her, his arms around her waist, his chin resting on the top of her head in a gesture that’s warm and familiar.

Perhaps it should be  _ too  _ familiar, they’re only just getting to know each other, after all, and this feels very... _ coupley,  _ but it works and Claire’s definitely not going to complain about what is, essentially, a hug.

She finally manages to pour two mugs of coffee and sets them on the counter with milk and sugar so Dwight can help himself.  He drops a soft kiss into her hair and reaches around her to do just that. Two sugars, tiny splash of milk. Claire makes sure to remember that for later and bites her tongue to stop herself making a comment about what he wants for breakfast because they’re at least ten years too old for that level of cheesy flirting.  She considers it anyway, just to hear him laugh.

Fuck it.  He needs to laugh.

“So that’s how you take your coffee but what do you want for breakfast?”  She manages to pitch it just right, light and teasing and playful and not in any way serious and it draws a surprised laugh from him.

“Long as you have eggs and bread, I can make egg in a hole.”

He’s playing along and that’s...kind of adorable and kind of heartwarming because it hints that he’s thinking the same as Claire is - that this whole…  _ thing  _ isn’t just going to be a mid-afternoon quickie.  Not that she’s opposed to that. At all. It’s just not what she wants.

“That sounds like a Lizzie favourite.”

“Yeah.  All honesty, I’m not much of a cook but I can manage the basics.  McHugh taught me some stuff when he found out I was living on ration packs a few years back.”

“McHugh can cook?”

“Surprised the hell outta me, too.”

Claire nods and takes a sip of her coffee.  It’s still too hot so she flashes Dwight a smile and squeezes past him to take her coffee into the lounge where she curls up at one end of the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, cradling the mug in her hands.

Taking the cue, he follows her and sits beside her.  His body is angled towards her with his arm stretched along the back of the couch and his fingers stroke her shoulder, gently tracing patterns.  Claire abandons her coffee in favour of shuffling closer to him. She just about manages not to actually climb into his lap but it’s a close run thing.

Now his fingers are stroking the back of her neck and and he's smiling down at her, that impossibly soft, warm, genuine smile that reaches his eyes and takes Claire's breath away.

She does climb into his lap then. Straddles his thighs, rests her hand on his jaw and leans down to kiss him. 

This time, she kisses him hard. Not so much a kiss as a prelude and he must get the hint because he stifles a groan and Claire has to bite back the urge to giggle and say “already?” when the bulge in his jeans gives a slight twitch. Instead, she deepens the kiss, letting her tongue wander into his mouth.

He responds -  _ god,  _ does he respond - not so much kissing as claiming her mouth and it's Claire's turn to stifle a groan. She fails when his hands slip down to her ass and gently squeeze.

Then fails harder when he scoops her up and breaks the kiss long enough to say - “bedroom?”

She wraps her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders and murmurs back “second door” before she leans down to kiss him again.

They don't stop kissing while he expertly moves them to the bedroom and he manages to nudge the door closed with his hip before he gently lowers her onto the bed. Claire doesn't mind admitting that she wouldn't have objected if that had been more of a throwdown but she's not going to complain because slow and gentle means she has time to pull him down with her so his body covers hers.

She kisses him more hungrily now, her mouth wider, inviting him in, and he responds in kind, his tongue exploring more deeply. Their movements become more frantic, fingers tugging at clothing, bodies arching against each other and Dwight's breathing is just as ragged as Claire's is, all hitched breaths and soft sighs that are almost moans.

They're not patient as they remove each others clothes; their touches are filled with a certain desperation more befitting a pair of horny teenagers than two grown adults with mortgages and responsibilities and Dwight hits that perfect combination of gentleness and raw, rough passion that leaves Claire gasping and arching into his hands.

She can't help but cry out when his thumb brushes across her nipple. He grins and replaces his thumb with his mouth, flicking his tongue around the sensitive nub. When he gently rasps his teeth across it, the sensation is too much and not enough all at once and Claire doesn't even try to hold back the cry that falls from her lips.

He's pliant, almost submissive, when she pushes him back and he rolls over willingly when she nudges his shoulder. She leans across him to pluck a condom out of the drawer and while he's rolling it on, she's straddling him.

Her slender thighs bracket his strong ones and he's all tattoos and defined muscles and eyes full of naked desire. Eyes that flicker closed when Claire lifts her hips and sinks down onto him.  Claire's eyes close too, as she soaks up the sensation of fullness, the wonderful stretch of him inside her. 

They open again when Dwight shifts a little beneath her. His dog tag has slipped so it’s lying under his ear and Claire leans down to straighten it so it’s resting on his chest instead.

She kisses him while she’s down there, her tongue darting into his mouth and he wraps his arms around her, holding her close. He arches into her and she grinds down against him, again and again but it's not enough - it's too - 

She sits up again and that's better. It's deeper. It's...more. He fills her so completely and she can't keep still, moving against him harder and faster, almost frantically until his fingers go to her hips. They tighten, slowing her movements and Claire's glad he does that because then - then he angles his hips so he hits her  _ just right  _ and all she can do is throw her head back with a soft groan and give herself over to the pleasure.

The soft groan turns into a loud one when he slips his hand between them and curls his finger and -  _ god,  _ she's so close, it's only going to take…

And then she's coming, clenching around him, the tension leaving her body.

She falls forwards, leaning her forehead against Dwight's, and he wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly.

“Want to stop?” he murmurs.

Still catching her breath, all she can do is shake her head. 

“Just need a minute,” she manages to say once her breath steadies enough for her to speak.

“Take as long as you need.” He kisses her forehead and she closes her eyes, composes herself and starts to move again.

He flips them over so Claire's beneath him, takes his weight on his elbows and knees and he's barely touching her.  That's wrong. She wants him close. She wants him crushing her so she arches up under him, wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down, encouraging him. He gives in to her then, falls forwards and lets himself go, moving harder and faster against her and - fuck, how is she so close again? That's ridiculous, she's never - twice this close together - but somehow she  _ is  _ and she slides her hands down to his ass, pulling him closer and deeper, nipping at his neck. He's close, she can feel how close he is and she slides one hand in between them, trying, desperately trying to go with him.

Her orgasm hits, quick and hard, a split second before he comes too and all they can do is cling to each other and gasp for breath.

“That was…” Claire starts to say, just as Dwight speaks.

“You were…”

She stops him with a kiss before this turns into an awkward round of ever increasing mutual compliments, and wriggles out from under him.

*

Clean up done (and why does it have to be so  _ awkward,  _ all the going to and from the bathroom and ‘after you’, ‘no, no, after you’?), Dwight’s halfway into his jeans and looking like he’s about to make his excuses.

Claire, for her part, has pulled on a pair of panties and a clean tank and hopped straight back into bed which she kind of hopes might give him the hint that she’s not kicking him out.

“You’re leaving?” she asks, very deliberately keeping her tone neutral.

“Wasn’t sure if…”

“Stay.”

He nods and shucks his jeans off again, sliding into the bed beside her with a wry grin.  “Sorry.”

Claire raises her eyebrows, silently asking  _ why?   _

“That was...cheap.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not but thanks.”  Dwight kisses her forehead.

“No, it is, I get it.  Neither of us really knows what... _ this  _ is and you were giving me space.  It’s fine. Really.”

It’s the kindest interpretation of his motivation for leaving.  He’s not a fuck-and-leave asshole, that’s for sure so it probably has more to do with not being sure if he’s welcome, or not feeling like he’s worth cuddling afterwards but that hurts her heart and Claire doesn’t think he’d appreciate the callout if she said that. 

So she doesn’t, she just curls herself into his arms when he opens them and rests her head on his chest.

His arms close around her, strong and warm and...strong.  Claire’s really not thinking particularly straight right now; all sorts of soft words are dancing on the tip of her tongue and trying to fall from her lips and her focus is on making sure they don’t do that because it’s too soon.  She stays quiet and soaks up the contact instead.

*

They must have fallen asleep because when Claire opens her eyes and blinks owlishly, it’s dark outside.

“Good nap?” Dwight murmurs and he’s  _ still there.   _

He’s awake and he’s still holding her; must have been holding her while she slept.  She nods and stretches, pulling out of his embrace just enough to rest her hand on his cheek and lean in for a soft kiss.  

“You stayed,” she says, leaving her hand on his cheek.  His stubble is rough under her fingers and she runs her thumb across it to feel the scratch.

He angles his face into her touch and she can’t quite see in the dark but she thinks he closes his eyes and that -

Actually that kinda breaks Claire’s heart.  Dwight is so strong and so  _ together.   _ He’s the man everyone turns to in a crisis; he’s the cleaner, the one who fixes everything but here, here in her bed, he’s  _ soft.   _ He’s accepting her affection, soaking it up in the same way she did when he wrapped his arms around her, and she can’t help wondering when the last time was that someone gave him this.

“Did you sleep?” she murmurs, sliding her hand from his cheek to run her fingers through his hair and lightly scratch his scalp.

“Dozed,” he says, relaxing against her.

“Want to nap?  Or we could order pizza, eat it in bed…?”

“Pizza...in bed?”

“Yep.  I dunno about you but I’m not feeling particularly like being a responsible adult tonight.”

“No arguments from me,” he says, gently kissing her forehead which makes Claire feel… Delicate and precious and it’s not a feeling she ever thought she’d like (or want) but coming from him it’s not patronising, it’s just  _ soft.   _ “We’ve all been  _ responsible adults  _ enough over the past few years.  Think we’ve all earned some down time.”

“It’s been...a lot, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

This is clearly a conversational route he doesn’t want to go down and Claire just about manages to resist the urge to  _ poke  _ at it and try to find out where his head is at.  He’s not a patient, he’s a - well, she’s not sure what he is right now and there’ll be plenty of time to work out what they’re going to label it as later.  He’s a  _ something.   _ Not a patient.

“What toppings do you want on this pizza?”  She changes to subject back to safer ground.  Even she can’t psychoanalyse something as straightforward as pizza toppings.  Probably. “And I'll warn you that if you say pineapple, I’m kicking you out.”

He laughs, low and soft and content.  “No pineapple, I promise. Meat feast?” He pauses, then rather hesitantly says - “you’re not a vegetarian, right?”

Claire smiles against his shoulder.  “No, not a vegetarian.” His sigh of relief is audible and she feels like she’s passed some sort of test.  “Want some hot wings too?”

“Hot wings’d be good.”

*

By the time they finish the pizza and hot wings - and half of the tub of cookie dough ice cream Claire added onto the order - and washed it all down with a couple of beers, they’re both yawning.

“Ok, look, just want to get this out there,” Claire says.  “When I asked you to stay earlier, I meant all night and if I clarify that now, it’s gonna save us a very awkward conversation in about five minutes.”

“Good to know.”  He sounds halfway between amused by her directness and relieved by it.  

“And there’s cold pizza for breakfast.”

“Really going all out on this not being a responsible adult thing, aren’t we?”

“Yes.”  She laughs.  “So you’re staying?”

“I’m staying.”  His voice is warm and reassuring and she’s glad to hear him say it, especially as he seems genuinely pleased about the fact.  He’s not just being  _ polite  _ about it.

He opens his arms again and Claire curls herself into them, letting herself accept the - it's not  _ comfort,  _ exactly, neither of them need comforting right now but it's  _ connection.  _ It's soft and affectionate and Claire's earlier thought that Dwight doesn't get this often applies to her too.

They're the same like that. 

Dwight is strong and together and no one thinks he needs a space to be soft. He does.

Claire is caring and always there for other people, to help them and  _ fix them  _ (their words, not hers) and no one thinks she needs someone to take care of her and give her a space to just  _ be.  _ She does.

Maybe, and it's early days yet, but maybe they can be that space for each other. For now, though, Claire's determined not to worry about it, she just tucks herself against him, closes her eyes and tries not to think.

*******

**Epilogue - three months later**

“Hey Lizzie,” Claire calls out from the school gate.

Lizzie sees her and grins and throws herself at her, wrapping her arms around Claire's waist. “Hey Claire.”

Claire laughs softly. “Your dad got caught up at work and asked me to come get you.”

“Does that mean we can practice the dance? Before he gets home? Pleeeease Claire, can we? I really want to get good so we can show him.”

Claire's never thought she'd be any good with kids but somehow it works with Lizzie. They'd bonded immediately over a shared love of the dance of the sugar plum fairy which turned out to be a shared love of dance, something which Dwight finds adorable given their tendency to dance along to music videos and the musical numbers in Disney films. 

“We're already good! But yes, we can practice and be ready to show him at the weekend.”

“Thanks Claire.”  Lizzie grins and links arms with her.

They go home and spend an hour practicing the dance routine before Dwight comes home with takeout and cupcakes.

“How're my girls?” he calls from the door, juggling pizza boxes and his keys.

“We're good,” Claire and Lizzie chorus back, both rushing to help him which has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to get their hands on the pizza he's carrying. Definitely not.

Lizzie dashes off with her pizza and Dwight pulls Claire into a hug.

“All ok?” he murmurs, his chin resting on her head.

She curls herself against his chest. “All good.”

“You staying tonight?”

“Try stopping me.”

He grins then and lets her go, drops a soft kiss onto her forehead and dashes off after Lizzie.

Claire stops for a moment, soaking up the domesticity of it all. It's still early days but it feels like home and family and she's still a little surprised to find that she wants that, having spent so many years  _ not  _ wanting that. But she does and she's determined not to go psychoanalysing herself over it. Things change. People change. And she's just going to accept it.

She smiles and chases after Dwight, swiping a slice of pizza before she flings herself onto the couch beside a giggling Lizzie and they settle in for movie night.


End file.
